


Who Will Pray For Me?

by citrusfriend



Series: Everyone's Arospec [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Bokuto, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Aromantic Characters, Gen, Genderfluid Terushima, Multi, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships, Self-Indulgent, Trans Kenma, bo is a yakuza boss, bo is agender tho so not really, idk what this is either tbh, kenma is hacker, kuroo is a thief, literally everyone is arospec, nonbinary kuroo, sorta - Freeform, teru is a thief, trans yaku
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-17 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14197923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusfriend/pseuds/citrusfriend
Summary: Tetsurou broke into an apartment for food, that's all. They didn't want to be caught by a man sitting in the shower, fully clothed, with no water on. They certainly didn't want to see said man again. And they definitely didn't want him to somehow get them involved in the yakuza. But shit happens.[the thief au that ran away from me and became bigger than intended before i had even finished the first chapter]





	1. Peach Yogurt

**Author's Note:**

> So this is inspired by 'thieves in the night' by skittidyne (idk how to do links and shit here sorry)  
> I started it intending to give it my own (less romantic) take, but I gave Kenma a sugar daddy for shits and giggles and then wondered how Bo would be getting the money and went "YAKUZA" so it went from a "i caught you robbing me" au to a yakuza au in five minutes ??  
> Anyway, in case you couldn't tell, I haven't planned this out much, unlike all of my other multichapter fics. So we'll see what happens. I might latch onto the yakuza thing and make this really dark or I might explain backstories and make it really angsty or I might just keep it lighthearted. I might do 3 chapters and be done or I might make it into a fuckin series. We'll see where the fic takes us.

Tetsurou knew this was risky. They really did. But god, they were hungry, so here they were, nonchalantly picking the lock of an apartment door with their black hoodie pulled low over their face to cover whatever features the face mask didn’t. They hadn’t scoped this place out at all, didn’t even know if the occupant had anything valuable. But there would at least be food, something Tetsurou hadn’t had in two days. Once the door creaked open, Tetsurou tucked their lockpicking tools into their hoodie pocket and slipped inside.

The apartment was small; the main room was a simple square with one door on the opposite wall and a kitchen to the right, but it was in better shape than most of the other Tetsurou had broken into in the building. It was sparsely decorated, with the most interesting thing in the room being a small couch to the left and a TV with various gaming consoles. Half the couch was covered in loose papers and notebooks, so Tetsurou guessed that whoever owned the apartment was a college student, like them. There was a closed laptop on the small table in the kitchen, which Tetsurou was fairly certain was supposed to be a nightstand. There were a few takeout boxes lying around.

More importantly, though, it was dark, with no lights or noises coming from the bedroom. Tetsurou gave a silent prayer to nothing that no one seemed to be home as they darted into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge as quickly as the could. It was primarily filled with instant foods and snacks, adding to their student hypothesis. Grabbing a random yogurt out of the fridge, Tetsurou rifled through the drawers for a spoon as quietly as possible. They didn’t know if someone was asleep in the apartment, after all.

Tetsurou ate as fast as possible, barely tasting the peach yogurt and cold eggroll. They pocketed a package of crackers they found. The first few times they had broken into a place for food, they had felt guilty for days, but after a semester of irregular meals and shitty paychecks that barely covered rent, let alone tuition, they couldn’t find it in themself to care anymore. They had to eat.

Once they had eaten enough to stop their hands from shaking, they scanned the apartment for a purse or a wallet. They searched a coat laying on the ground near the entrance, but only came away with crumpled receipts and a sticky note with a surprisingly good sketch of an owl, signed with a messy scrawl of the name _Koutarou_. Tetsurou shover the papers back into the pocket and sat back on their heels. Unless Tetsurou wanted to leave with only a package of saltines, they had to look in the bedroom, but there was still the possibility that someone was in there.

Tetsurou stared hard at the bedroom door, as if that would make it reveal it’s secrets. It didn’t, so Tetsurou pushed themself to their feet. They had been in the apartment for some time now, they reasoned, and heard nothing. They turned the knob of the door and peaked with one eye.

The bedroom was somehow darker than the rest of the apartment and Tetsurou had to squint to see. A twin sized bed was nestled in the far corner with more pillows than they could count at first glance. An open door, presumably to the bathroom, was on the left. There were clothes and takeout boxes scattered throughout the small room and a dresser in the corner. The thing that caught Tetsurou’s eye, though, was what was above the bed. A large trans flag was pinned to the wall with _he/him_ printed across the stripes in black. Tetsurou felt a flicker of remorse. He’s trans too. Knowing the similarity kept them from being able to distance themself from the occupant, but Tetsurou shook it off and began poking through clothes for something that might fit them. They hadn’t been able to buy clothes since the semester started. Unfortunately, it seemed like everything would be too small, like it almost always was. They noticed, though, that all of the clothes they picked up were nice quality and from a fairly well known brand, which contrasted with the general sparsity of the apartment.

Either he’s shallow, self-conscious, or has a sugar daddy.

It didn’t particularly matter though, so Tetsurou discarded the clothes and turned to the open door. A black wallet lay on the counter next to some keys. There were some clothes on the bathroom floor next to the closed shower curtain, but Tetsurou paid them no mind. They’d get enough money for a snack tomorrow and then leave. They had been planning on taking a game console to sell as well, but they decided against it; trans kids had to stick together. Even if they were technically robbing him. Whatever.

They had just flicked open the wallet and damn, that credit card looks fancy, maybe he really does have a sugar daddy when there was a soft crinkle. Tetsurou froze. A head poked out from the bottom of the shower.

“Do I know you?” the head asked, voice quiet and slurred. Gold eyes stared at Tetsurou suspiciously.

Tetsurou was suddenly very glad that they had pulled their face mask back over their mouth when they had finished eating. They stared wide-eyed at the head, barely registering the fact that the black hair pulled into a loose bun was dry, despite sitting in the shower stall.

“Uh,” they said, incredibly aware that they were caught holding this guy’s wallet. Their foot twitched back, preparing to run for it.

“I don’t know you,” the head determined. “Are you going to kill me?” There was no inflection in the question, but Tetsurou jerked back all the same.

“No! Of course not!” they assured the head, frowning behind the black face mask.

The head sighed and slipped back behind the curtain, out of sight. “Then what good are you.” Again, the words were level, not lifting up into a question.

Tetsurou gawked at the now-closed white shower curtain. “What?”

There was a long sigh. “If you’re not going to kill me, then go away. I’m brooding.”

Despite their confusion, Tetsurou slowly started fishing money from the wallet in their hands. He never said not to. “Why are you brooding?” they asked, still reeling from the fact that they had been caught, but hadn’t had the police called on them. Part of them wondered if he was suicidal, due to his calmness when faced with being possibly murdered. Tetsurou decided they wouldn’t be able to do anything about that regardless, so they let it go.

“I thought you were a thief, not a therapist,” he drawled.

Tetsurou pocketed the money and sniffed indignantly. “I could be a therapist. Why are you sitting in the shower without the water on?” They began creeping backwards towards the door. For all they know, the guy could have a phone in the shower with him. Who knows what weirdos who sit in empty showers do.

“Like I said, I’m brooding. Why are you stealing my shit?” he countered.

That didn’t explain anything, but Tetsurou was in the doorway now, so they offered, “Being a therapist doesn’t pay well.”

There was a snort so soft Tetsurou wasn’t sure if they really heard it. “Therapy costs too much for a therapist to be underpaid.”

At that, Tetsurou exhaled a sigh. They had looked into therapy multiple times, only to feel sick at the price each time. Nope. Not worth it. “You got that right,” they muttered before turning on their heel to skitter out the the apartment.

They weren’t naive enough to think that they would never get caught, but they didn’t expect it to go like that. They decided to avoid that apartment building for a little while.


	2. Takeout

    Kenma allowed a small smile to flit across his lips as he watched Shouyou eat his ice cream with surprising fervor. But then, Shouyou always was happier when Kenma was doing well enough to go out with him. Kenma had isolated himself for three weeks this time, during which the only people to see him was Koutarou and a thief with bad hair, and he knew Shouyou had missed him. It was guilt alone that propelled Kenma to agreeing to extend their day by walking back to Shouyou’s apartment. His social battery wasn’t completely drained yet, he just didn’t like people getting false expectations of what his limits were and then feeling hurt when they’re wrong. Kenma pushed away this instinct, though, because it’s Shouyou. He was worth walking several blocks to get ice cream for, even if he was starting to get sensory overload from the people and sunlight around them.

“Has Bokuto-san bought you that game yet?” Shouyou suddenly asked, jerking his head away from the ice cream in his hands to Kenma, who was walking beside him. Kenma wasn’t startled by Shouyou’s abrupt nature anymore; he had known the redhead would break the silence.

In response to the question, Kenma’s lips twisted into a small, subconscious pout. “Not yet. There’s an astronomy lab that I’ve been putting off because I can’t do it online. They’ll give it to me when I’m done.”

While Kenma was exclusively doing online classes for university this year, labs were something he would have to physically be present at the school for. Koutarou hadn’t been upset that Kenma was putting it off; while they didn’t understand all of Kenma’s idiosyncrasies, they understood that he wasn’t capable of dealing with the anxiety in addition to his depressive episode. Koutarou was kinder than Kenma deserved.

Shouyou was grinning. “If it weren’t for them, I swear you’d never get anything done,” he teased. “You gotta tell me sometime how you got a sugar daddy.” He shoveled another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and Kenma tried to refrain from rolling his eyes at the title. “Help a broke college kid out.”

Kenma rolled his eyes. Koutarou had become his “sugar daddy” a year ago--if their relationship still constituted as that anymore--and ever since, Shouyou had been vaguely irritated that Kenma refused to tell him how it had happened.

“I’m sure you could find one if you really wanted to,” he said, like he said every time. Truthfully, Kenma hadn’t  _ tried  _ to befriend Koutarou, they just kind of… latched on. Like a leech. Only Kenma was the one who was leeching, despite Koutarou’s assurances that they didn’t care about the money.

Shouyou groaned as they entered his apartment building. “Ken _ ma _ , you always say that, but here I am, without one!” he whined, stabbing the call button for the elevator more times than necessary.

Kenma blinked quickly, trying to adjust to the transition from sunlight to artificial light. “That’s because you don’t try, Shouyou.”

The elevator opened and Shouyou huffed, shoving another bite of ice cream in his mouth. Kenma ate a significantly smaller spoonful of his own. “I do too,” he protested, slapping the button for the third floor.

Kenma raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. They both were fully aware of Shouyou’s aversion to commitment. Crinkling his nose, Shouyou stuck out his tongue as if Kenma had spoken. Kenma also wrinkled his nose, but for different reasons.

“At least swallow your ice cream first.”

Swallowing quickly, Shouyou stuck out his tongue again, this time without melting peanut butter ice cream. Kenma nodded his approval and the door slid open.

They were halfway down the hall to Shouyou’s apartment when he abruptly exclaimed, “Oh, speaking of-” he cut himself of with a cough. Watching wearily, Kenma dropped his spoon in his ice cream container to hover halfway to him. Shouyou quickly recovered though, this having not been the first time he spoken while swallowing, and carried on. “You wouldn’t believe who invited to have a threesome the other day!” he exclaimed. Kenma pretended not to have noticed the wide eyes of a neighbor halfway outside her door at Shouyou’s loud declaration.

“It was Morisuke and Lev, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Lev liked to overshare, so even if Kenma had been unreachable for the past three weeks, he had heard far too much of both his sex life and who else was involved in it before then.

“It was Lev and- hey, how'd you know?” Shouyou pouted, which Kenma had expected. He had bemoaned on multiple occasions that Kenma ruined his dramatic storytelling.

They had reached the right door now, and Shouyou scrabbled at his pockets with one hand for his keys. “Lev talks too much,” Kenma answered and pulled his own key from his jeans. Shouyou took them with a grin that wasn’t the slightest bit sheepish and unlocked the door.

“No, I think you’re just psychic. Really, I had no idea they wanted that!” Shouyou was getting back into his stride now. Kenma decided he would let him have his spiel. “Yaku-kun just doesn’t seem like the type,” he continued as they both removed their shoes and Kenma was given back his keys. “And Lev always struck me as the possessive-alpha type of guy.”

Kenma snorted. Lev was anything  _ but _ the possessive alpha type. Stupid Russians and their stupid mouths and their stupid submissive, voyeuristic fantasies.

“I think I’m gonna agree, though,” Shouyou was saying as they shuffled--well, Kenma shuffled, Shouyou bounced --towards the kitchen. “I’ve never had a threesome, so-”

Kenma froze. Not because of Shouyou’s words (he liked to overshare too), but at the sight that greeted them in the kitchen. Shouyou, surprised by Kenma’s sudden tension, whipped around and also froze in place.

There were people in Shouyou’s apartment. One definitely looked like the type to break and enter--college age, undercut and dyed hair, facial piercings, a tattoo peeking out of a black long-sleeve shirt that was way too big for its occupant. The other seemed less like a delinquent, but not by much. This one was tan, with black hair so wild it looked vaguely like a rat’s nest, dark clothes, and eyes that screamed mischief, even as wide and alarmed as they were now. Both wore black face masks over their mouth, but they seemed unarmed. 

Unbidden, words popped into Kenma’s mouth. “You again?” he asked, eyeing the one with the nightmare hair. He saw Shouyou’s head fly to stare at him with wide, questioning eyes, clearly wondering how Kenma knew who this was.

    Neither intruder wore a pin to indicate their pronouns--which wasn’t common in Japan, but Kenma always looked anyway--so he ignored their appearance and automatically began using gender neutral pronouns. He always did.

“Uh,” Nightmare Hair said.

Undercut sidled closer to Nightmare hair. “Wait, is this that shower guy?”

So Nightmare Hair had told the other about being caught by him? They must be close, Kenma surmised. Most wouldn’t risk their pride like that, especially with someone they worked with--which it certainly seemed like these two did. Kenma wondered if Undercut had been in Kenma’s apartment too. Not that he minded; only some food and money was taken. Particularly since it seemed the motivation for the robbery was necessity, not greed, based on the fact that Kenma’s credit card and games were untouched.

“Why are you in my apartment? How do you know Kenma?!”

“One of them broke into my apartment two weeks ago. It’s not a big deal.”

Shouyou grabbed his keys from his bag--Kenma made a side note to ask why he had used Kenma’s when he clearly knew where his were--and thrust them out threateningly at the intruders. “What do you want with us?!”

    Suppressing a sigh, Kenma crossed in front of Shouyou to deposit his ice cream on the counter, not taking his eyes off the two robbers. Undercut seems to have recovered, while Nightmare Hair seems to be ready to melt into the floor. Kenma could feel Shouyou’s disapproval.

    “Get away from them! They could be dangerous!” he protested.

    Kenma ignored him. Now that he was a little closer to them, Kenma could see signs that his hypothesis about robbing being necessary was correct. Both of them were very thin, wore old clothes, and had dark circles under their eyes.

    Undercut opened their mouth to speak, but Kenma beat them to it. “Have you eaten yet?”

    Undercut’s mouth closed with a snap and they looked at Kenma oddly. “What?”

    “What?! Kenma,  _ they broke in! _ ”

    “We can just-” Nightmare Hair began.

    Kenma shot them a look to silence them before turning to Shouyou, who still held the keys between his finger like Wolverine. “They didn’t take that much from me last time, so I’m sure I can get Koutarou to replace everything for you. They already know about the last time.”

    Shouyou’s eyes somehow grew wider. “You told them? And they didn’t make you call the police?!”

    Kenma decided that didn’t need to be answered immediately--especially when the answer was obvious--and looked back over at the intruders, who were trying to sneakily exit the kitchen to the main room. “Have you eaten yet?” he repeated.

    Nightmare Hair’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

    Conscious that they were on edge because of Shouyou, Kenma let his mouth twitch into a brief, almost-smile to try to coax them into trusting him, at least enough to eat. “I heard that therapy doesn’t tend to pay well.”

    At the reference to the conversation they had in Kenma’s bathroom--which, to be fair, Kenma doesn’t remember much of due to the whole depressive episode thing--Nightmare Hair’s expression shifted to one of surprise.

    “Why do you care?” Undercut countered. Unlike Shouyou, they didn’t seem confused by Kenma’s reference, so he assumed that Nightmare Hair had told them.

Kenma sighed. He wanted to at least feed them, but he was tired. He was tired and the kitchen lights were hurting his eyes and everyone’s voices seemed a bit too loud. “You seem like you only do this,” Kenma gestured at the apartment vaguely, “to eat, so I was going to let you do that. But you can just leave if you want. We won’t call the police on you.”

He decided not to mention that the police wouldn’t get involved, not out of sympathy for the thieves, but self-preservation of himself.

“Like  _ hell  _ we won’t! They broke-”

Kenma turned a Dark Look his way and Shouyou cut himself off. Kenma didn’t use his Dark Look often. He felt too much like Morisuke when he did. But damn it, Kenma knew what it was like to do undesirable things just to eat and the only reason he wasn’t doing something similar--or worse--was because of Koutarou. And Shouyou knew that.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. He shoved the keys bag into his bag, but retained his glare.

“Go order takeout.”

Nightmare Hair interjected again. “Just letting us go is fine, we don’t need you to-”

Kenma sent them a Dark Look too. Jesus, why are people so stubborn? Kenma didn’t know how Morisuke did this mothering thing. He sat down with his back against the cabinets so he still faced the intruders and pulled his PSP from his jacket pocket. “Sit,” was the only thing he said before powered up his game. He was tired.

Kenma forced himself to ignore his surroundings in favor of his game. The intruders were talking quietly at Shouyou’s table, but Kenma didn’t let himself eavesdrop. He needed to distract himself before he had a full sensory overload. He hadn’t gotten far into the level when Shouyou dropped to his knees next to him, careful not to touch Kenma.

“Should I call Bokuto-san?” he whispered. Shouyou never was good with Kenma’s anxiety or sensory overload. Koutarou wasn’t either, not really, but they understood in a way Shouyou couldn’t. Nonetheless, Kenma knew Koutarou was meeting with their  _ shateigashira _ \--a fact Kenma definitely shouldn’t know, since he was technically a hacker they hired occasionally and not actually in their  _ yakuza  _ family--so he shook his head at the offer.

“Make sure they eat,” he murmured, quiet, not to avoid being overheard--in a kitchen this small, it would happen anyway--but because any louder would have sounded like screaming to his ears. “You know I’ve been in their place. I’ll pay you back.”

Kenma didn’t like talking about his previous financial troubles--no poor family does, so he had learned to hide it from others early on--but Shouyou was his childhood friend. He already knew. Already  _ saw _ .

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Shouyou slowly shaking his head. “No, I get it. Just don’t like people breaking into my place,” he explained with a soft, fake chuckle. Kenma wasn’t worried about it though; Shouyou would bounce back quickly, especially since Kenma knew his friend had taken advantage of his offer to pay. Shouyou had ordered enough for leftovers because he knew that  _ Kenma  _ wouldn’t pay for it, and Koutarou wouldn’t even blink.

Kenma nodded and unpaused his game. He would grow uncomfortable on the hard floor eventually, he knew, but he wanted to monitor the situation in case it escalated again. He doubted it would. Once Shouyou opened up, his charisma would smooth over the conversation, and the redhead was compassionate enough that Kenma was fairly certain the intruders would leave with Shouyou’s cell number.

The food arrived quickly, and after declining to eat any, Kenma was left alone. He heard one of the intruders ask about him, but Shouyou dismissed it with a loud laugh and a “He got a new game recently, don’t take it personally. He gets obsessed over that stuff!” and changed the topic of conversation.

Although he didn’t particularly want to listen in, it was a small kitchen. There was barely a yard between himself and the kitchen table, so he gathered some information. Undercut’s name was Terushima, and she was probably genderfluid, since when Shouyou inquired about pronouns, she had said that her’s were she/her  _ today _ . Nightmare Hair, the one who had been in Kenma’s apartment, was Kuroo, with they/them pronouns. They were both students. Terushima had a flirty personality, or at least pretended to when she was uncomfortable. Kuroo was more teasing once they got over their initial anxiety. Both of them used to play volleyball, much to Shouyou’s delight.

It also seemed that Kenma was right about their poor eating. They seemed to practically inhale all the food Shouyou gave them, and because of that, they didn’t stay for long. He was also right about Shouyou offering his phone number. Kenma wasn’t sure if they would actually call or not, but he didn’t spend too much time wondering. He had done his part by feeding them and Shouyou had extended  _ his _ friendship, not Kenma’s. He wasn’t naive enough to think that he would never see them if they ever became close to Shouyou; Kenma was forced to interact with most of his friends. But Kenma always put in minimal effort into those interactions.

It wasn’t until the two thieves left the apartment that Kenma lifted his head from his now-beaten game. Turning off the device, Kenma pushed himself up with a slight wince, joints stiff.

“Are you too tired to stay?” Shouyou asked, hovering nervously between the doorway and the kitchen. Then his eyes went wide and his hands flew up. “Not that it’s a problem if you are! I understand if you have to leave.”

Kenma gave him a small smile to calm him and Shouyou’s flapping hands fell back down to tap at his thigh. “Finish your story before I do,” Kenma said. He didn’t want to stay, and honestly, he probably shouldn’t, but he still felt guilty.

A bright smile burst across Shouyou’s face and he launched back into describe exactly how Morisuke and Lev had propositioned him. Kenma moved himself to Shouyou’s couch and contented himself to listen.

**Author's Note:**

> In case any of you care, I'm also planning a Yaku and Lev centric superhero fic (actually planning it not just fucking around like i am with this one) so look forward to that being posted in the next two weeks. I'm also gonna try to update my other fics, but like. Who actually updates the things they say they will lmao


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